as seen: nyc.

This commences my life as a blogger.  I've been weary of entering the blogosphere for eons only because I'm somewhat disorganized and often forget to follow-up on the many things that need doing in life.  But, with more than a few pokes and prods and the loving support of those near and those dear, here I am.  How shall I introduce myself?  How shall I share bits and pieces of what needs sharing?  This I do not know.  So, it seems, I should start in the middle of things, from where I stand.  Deep breath.  Here goes.

One of my dearest loves is wandering the streets of cities both known and unknown.  I look for the old in cracks on the sidewalks, on ancient windows- the sink and swirl of their glass, gaze at bricks laid one on top of another long ago.  I attempt to transport myself into that city.  What life would I live if this were my home?  How would I be me?  How would I be different?  Who would I love and cherish?  I look for what inspires my heart, inspires my fingers.  I look for the crafty skills of makers and the signs of artisanal food.  I love the quiet of my imaginings against the soundscape of the city.  I love the possibility of connection with strangers, the fleeting bits of conversation shared.  I love the options for transport, the common acceptance of being self-propelled, the fact that, for instance, so few residents of new york city actually own cars.  Oh, I do love cities, the hot bed of chance, the act of life being lived so vividly, but I also love the rural life and everything in between.  I could make an argument for each, no one more or less intriguing.  Yet, when I travel alone, which is a rarity these days, it is a city that calls my name, a city that embraces me, sings me to sleep.  On Thursday last, that city was the place of my birth.  We had a short visit, not entirely dreamy, but one that brought me to my edge, that place where you feel the ache of what it means to be alive.  Here are a few snippets of that city I love.